


This Last Time

by motleystitches (furius)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Growing Up Together, Implied Raleigh Becket/Mako Mori, Light BDSM, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Chuck, Spanking, beta mako, the complicated world of shatterdomes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furius/pseuds/motleystitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of the night, Chuck, in heat, arrives at Mako's door, and a shared past catches up with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for reasons I no longer remember. I hope they were good ones.

It's not the alarm. Mako's eyes are still half-closed when the call wakes her. Sometimes, it's just someone forgetting the time zone difference.

Not urgent enough to warrant turning on the lights. The screen's dark by the time she reaches the tablet, but the knock on her door is soft, tentative enough that she turns on the lights and opens the door without looking through the peephole. 

Chuck Hansen's body fills the frame. Still blinking, she can't see his face, but there's a phone in his hand, the screen still on. "Mako-" he rasps, and the syllables cut open something inside her.

Raleigh should still be asleep.

She whispers, "Why aren't you taking the meds?"

"Why do you think?" Chuck throws back. He looks as if he's been fighting, so flushed his hair is clashing with his skin. But it would be dry and only slightly warm to the touch. Comfortably so.

Drift technology and synth suits are sensitive to slight variations in body chemistry. In the beginning a host of medications that can cause significant alterations are forbidden for active Jaegar pilots.

She grabs Chuck's arm and pulls him inside before shutting the door. He's leaning against her bed by the time she locks it. 

His back is still broad without the jacket and broader than the last time he's in her room. 

"Why are you in my room?"

"You are the one who pulled me inside." Chuck says, his eyes more dark than green. He sits down in her bed. "Do you just want me to say yes? Or are you just standing there because you're afraid Raleigh's going to come to the wrong conclusions and give me another fight."

"I'm surprised you can still talk," Mako says, ignoring the remark.

"It started a couple of hours ago."

"There are ten million people outside the Shatterdome and almost a thousand inside," she reminds him. "Most of them unbonded."

Chuck lets out a long breath. He's having trouble taking off his boots, flicking open the buckles slowly, as if distracted. "I'm saying yes, Mako. And you are a Jaegar pilot."

"If you give me that line about a reward for my services I'm going to throw you out and you can go to Newt for all I care."

Chuck got his omega status at fifteen and had been angry about it. Herc's an alpha. The Marshal's an alpha. Most of the rangers were alphas and Chuck was already the youngest in the class. There were alphas who followed him around, not to mention the reporters and the paparazzi: all of a sudden he was tabloid bait. 

Mako was angrier: six months older and "undeveloped" no matter how many matches she won, how well she understood J-tech, or how many alphas she fought off from prowling around Chuck's door. 

Practically speaking, presenting as a beta is better than presenting as an alpha or omega since the beta's connection to the Jaegar is more consistent, but Chuck still got into a Jaegar before she did. The political powers of PPDC were alphas or omegas. 

"Mako!" Chuck growls, distracting her. "I thought omega heats don't make betas stupid? I don't want someone else."

Alpha and omega could bond, have children: but what did any of them who grew up in Shatterdomes in a constant state of war care about that?

Synth suit technology improved since Mark 2 to expand available candidate pool, but everyone who was growing up underfoot in Drift R&D, providing and analyzing data, knew that the hormonal response due to Drift technology is not fully understood despite better integration and shielding. So they believe what the first generations of rangers did: they took care of their own. 

And now they are the only two left. "Take your trousers off," she says. Chuck's finished with his boots, so he takes his hand to his belt-- how long did it take him to dress-- and unbuckles and drops it to the ground before he does the same with his trousers. 

There's a silvery trail along his thigh already. Mako blushes. It shouldn't affect her, but she could remember the damp patch in front of his trousers, the embarrassment of not knowing what's happening, why people seem to be coming in closer to their corner, until Chuck grabs her hand and presses right up against her and made a small, broken noise. That was his second heat. 

"Are you just going to stand there and look or are you going to fuck me into the mattress?" Chuck says, and actually crawls into her bed. He looks large in it, the cascade of his shoulders almost its width. 

When Mako doesn't move, Chuck throws back the covers and spreads his legs. He touches the inside of his thighs, slicks up his hands and holds himself. "Can't do it anymore, Mori?"

"Shut up," she says. "You're going out of your mind and I don't have the equipment." 

His eyes scan the room. "I'm sure you got something."

"I'm not just going to wrap something in a condom and stick it in you." 

"Why not?" 

"Because you're going out of your mind! And you need-" A knot, or its approximate, the form and function recreated specifically to sustain an omega through a heat, for a beta to respond to an omega. Chuck strokes himself once and moans. Mako's breath stutters. 

The room's small and Chuck's in her bed, inviting. She's a beta, even headed, thinking, and perfectly aware of her own attraction to a well honed body, all at once familiar and excitingly strange. Chuck's legs are open, his feet planted on the bed, and below his cock and scrotum, moisture is seeping into the sheets. 

Mouth dry, Mako licks her bottom lip.

Chuck's eyes, half-lidded, flicks to hers. "And I'm no good to anyone like this for three days." He lowers his gaze. "So do something."

Affected, disturbed by the twist of satisfaction from the words, Mako forces steel into her voice. "Turn around."

Chuck positions the pillow before he presents his back and lifts his hips. Below the waist, despite the Australian sun and photo-shoots, he's still pale, but all the marks have faded. 

She clenches her hand to stop herself from stroking the curve of his ass, the parts shadowed between his long thighs, just to check.

One sharp inhale, and Mako hits him with a hard, openhanded slap that leaves Chuck gasping. She hits him again. He rocks forward to the bed and lets out a sound between a sob and a groan. 

Enough sensations, enough sensitivity, it won't matter whether she's alpha or beta or even omega. Heat is something between pain and arousal; a knot merely completes the cycle.

But every knotting, true or false, still leaves a pilot off the active duty roster for the duration. Rangers took care of their own to shorten a heat. Mako hits Chuck again, harder.

Chuck moans, shoving forward. He's touching himself and he's not going to listen to Mako if she orders him to stop, so she hits him this time a little high in the back. The hem of his shirt rides up.

Mako pauses. 

Chuck turns to look at her, confused, his eyelashes spiky with tears or sweat. "Why did you stop?"

The anger takes her by surprise. "Take your shirt off."

Chuck swears then says, "No," quite loudly, but Mako's hand is resting low on the sacrum and she can still feel the bump of an ugly twist of scar tissue, smooth beneath her fingers.

"Who?" She wonders out loud, then says, striving calm, "I'm going to leave you here if you don't take your shirt off. Or I might actually cut it off and leave you here."

Chuck sits up abruptly, almost throwing her off. "Fine." And he strips.

Mako stares. Beyond the bruises on his torso, across his back and even parts of his chest are thin lines of old scars; they almost look like Driftsuit scars except for how they concentrate around the spinal nerves.

"What are these?" Chuck shudders as Mako traces her fingers over them, leaning into her hand. His skin's already warm, but not too much, though slick with sweat. All rangers depilate for increase integration of the Drift and Chuck's blushing from skin to his chest, his pink nipples pebbled under the AC. She flicks his chest, a light tap against smooth firm muscle; and the hitch of his breath unfurls something warm and pleasant and _thrumming_ deep within her. Mako presses her palms flat against his chest. watch the bob of his Adam’s apple beneath the soft skin of his throat. "Tell me."

"We were on pilot standby in a three Jaegar team drop. It was the second category 4 we've ever seen. Half an hour before LOCCENT decided that Striker Eureka needs to deploy, I went into heat in the drivesuit room." And Chuck's voice is still steady, if slurred. The green of his eyes are still visible. "One of the tech sliced my back open and I drifted with the old man while in heat." Mako let out a noise, involuntarily. Chuck's smiled, lazy and slightly fixed, the one he perfected for the cameras. "They learnt that the new suits do successfully partition the extremes of alpha and omega signatures, just not well enough not to leave scars. Now you've the story-" The smile gradually settled into Chuck's usual smug grin as Mako leans her head against his. Her eyes, helpless, drawn to the moisture over his upper lip. She can't smell him beyond the familiar mixture of soap and shampoo and sweat, but she can still taste, the scent of him fills her mouth. "I'm not going to tell you who, but feel free to think about her."

Mako kisses him, pressing forward with her tongue and her body. And Chuck yields so easily beneath her, groaning as she shifts her self over him. She's still clothed, but her legs are mostly bare. He tries to curl around her, restless to get at the skin. 

"She scarred your back," she's still breathless, her hand over the intricate pattern over his lower ribs. The sudden spike of repugnance for someone at worst a stranger surprises her. The scar on his back was deep. What could they possibly use in a drivesuit room?

"You don't need me to look nice," Chuck mutters, then whines as she shifts her knee up high between his legs, the soft warm heat of his balls pressing against her thigh. "You said it doesn't matter."

"You are an idiot." Mako whispers against his ear, shivers as the wet tip of his cock drags against her leg. He closes his eyes, eyelashes trembling. That is the same. The hot and heavy feeling in her chest won't go away. "You looked nice for her." 

Chuck blinks up at her. The cut on his nose is still only half-healed. It won't scar. Omegas in heat are indiscriminate about their partners, but no one touches the underage son of Herc Hansen. A year later, when the rosters brought them into the same Shatterdome again, she was still the only one who knew the intimate details of his body. And then for a while, it doesn't matter whether there's a heat.

She tears herself away from that thought, trying to forget what changed, and catch the thread of necessary control instead of giving in to the more confused and unhappy anger below. 

-=-=

Chuck's trying to turn around, getting into the proper position. His ass still stings from Mako's hand. Torn between thrusting up against her, into her, or getting her inside him- somehow-- he's writhing, kicking off the pillows and the blankets. One of his elbows hits the wall. The pain brings a moment of clarity: Mako, sloe-eyed, her color high, is _on_ him. The rough blue of her hair brushes against his chest.

He whines, hoping she would make a decision. 

He can't get the words out in proper order when his skin flares with pleasure at every rub of the cotton of her clothes. He gulps air; his eyes sweep close briefly as she mouths his neck. "Get me to tell you who-"

She runs her hand down his chest and squeezes his nipples until they whiten. Chuck gasps as the heat of her mouth descends. Her tongue's on the nubs, suckling slightly. He can feel the tickle of the tip and then edge of teeth below, deliciously close on his skin.

Mako's far too small. Not enough for the softness of her breast to cover him, for the wrap of her hands to hold him. He's exposed, open the elements, nerves twisting and fraying in the moments. And the strip of Mako leaves him too much of him bare.

"She's strong," he goads, breathless. He hates this. Loves this. The sharp mixture of anticipation of fear layering atop of the arousal. A beta can always leave. Rules of courtesy for omegas in heats can keep Mako from refusing him. He tries to time it close, whenever he can, before everything went to hell. "Held me down."

"I don't care," Mako answers. The liar. Her hands twists harder on his chest, scratching down his sides, curving down his hips following the vee of his legs, fingertips trailing down the inside of his thighs, her thumbs circling the delicate skin. 

"Imprecise." Mako's voice has gone into a tight, low murmur. Her hands close tight around him, pressing the length of his cock downwards until he cries out. The sharp pain sending a vicious stab of pleasure through him. He can't come like this. He wants to. "Mako, Mako-" he repeats, or attempts, as she pulls her hand away, the rough fingertips slipping, on purpose, up against the rim of his hole. He clenches tight against the emptiness, satisfaction gone awry as she's off of him entirely.

And he's face-down on the mattress, elbows on the bed, thoughts going increasingly hazy. Mako's breath slithers down his back. One, two, three- the puffs of breaths are evenly spaced, clipping him in place. All of him, tightening up in anticipation as he hears the susurrus of clothes behind him, begins to feel faint. 

Mako's naked. He hasn't seen her naked in years. The instinct to stay down and to turn around warring within him until he feels her mouth right against the nape of his neck.

"Belt or brush?" she asks. "Can you still talk?"

Throat tight, Chuck shakes his head. He widens his legs, fingers clenching on the bedclothes. He's not going to touch himself. No.

"I've the belt," Mako's muttering. "It's close." She waits for a moment. A snap of leather. Chuck can hear his own heartbeat. "Count," she says, moving away. "So I know."

The cold air whistles, The pain clears away the confusion. "One," he grits out. The strike landed, he thinks, somewhere lower than his buttocks. The next ones move up, the sensations licking flames up his spine, rolling through him, building. The rhythm's uneven; the blows in quick succession or laid singly. Too equally spaced and it's useless. Well, not useless- but the heat lasts as long. They discovered that early when Mako's still hesitant and wondering how he's going to sit. They don't: convenient lack of chairs in Shatterdomes, by coincidence of design, makes the effects less noticeable. Sweat is dripping down, and Chuck spreads his legs wider as he counts, rapidly, until one hits him right between the buttocks. He shudders and a noise tears out of him, so loud that he tries to muffle it.

His entire lower body buzzing a bright flare of pleasure that he doesn't realize she's stopped until he feels her front pressed firmly on his back.

Her hands span his waist, scratching at his belly, tugging softly at the hair near his crotch. 

"Still there?" 

"What?" His eyes sting. He tries to lean back, Mako moves away again. 

"Sit up."

She pulls him backwards. "Mako, hurts." And it does. His ass and the back of his thighs are burning sitting upright. He's still hard, but she eyes his cock briefly before settling her gaze lower.

Chuck shifts, uneasy. He's still leaking, the fluid's less viscous now. She can probably slides her whole hand in and he wouldn't feel it. Probably inadvisable. Chuck is going to ask. Then Mako kisses him, her tongue licking deep into him. 

He whimpers, desperate, and tips backwards slightly, crying out as his bruised skin slides against the sheets. Mako slips away for a moment. She reaches for a pillow, the tightening and loosing of the muscles in her arm etched across his eyes. She shoves a pillow beneath his hips.

There's something he tries to remember as she kneels between his open legs, her shoulders spreading him open. He loses the sight of her face as she bows her head. His ass feels raw, but she's kneading his back-side, the pain becoming awful. Too long and it's not-

He feels the touch like a kick to the chest. His entire body goes taut as Mako licks delicately across his hole, this time enough to make his entire body jolt. He cries out as Mako buries herself deeper between his thighs, delves deeper with her tongue. Chest heaving, Chuck's mindless, arching his hip, trying to draw her into him even when his body hardly feels like his own. Her tongue hooks him, twisting inside him, draws him inexorably into a terrible pleasure that will not end. Should not. 

-=-=

Chuck's very much like and unlike when he's first there. The suppleness of his body on display as he holds himself open, but the inside of his thighs are starkly pale against the crimson of the welts she left on his skin, the strain of his red cock and balls, and the glistening privacy of his body, slightly swollen, tempting. Her own ache is a terrible, half-wild desire, insistent against the control she's trying to exert. Older. Wiser. Less selfish. 

Her voice wouldn't come. The dizziness of him is still on her tongue, coursing through her. The words grate through air. "I’ve to stop."

Chuck lowers his legs. He's still panting. Mako climbs up on him, straddles his legs. Bear down and she can ride him until he comes. He could. And the heat wouldn't be over because she doesn't have a knot. And when she finds one, it would the tying more painful without climax. Keeping him on the edge, keeping herself on the edge. It's pure chance she's a beta and he an omega. Compromised. The rules were drilled into them. It's only fair when it's over. 

But she wants to touch him. Had wanted to even when she shut the door on him two days before he shipped out- a pilot by the beneficence of politics. Had wanted to the third time she told herself to say no to a man, no longer a boy, who obeyed orders but grieved by disrespecting the dead. The relief of seeing him at her door every time never really left.

"Hand," Chuck says abruptly. 

Mako looks down at her hand, makes it into a fist. It's too dangerous. Shorten a heat by a day by any means possible and it's a day when a kaiju might come out of a breach. The erogenous zones of the omegas are sensitized during the heat, but deep enough, the body is only receptive to distinctive shape and chemistry. Anything else, the heat is prolonged- an atavistic response.

"It's too dangerous."

"Don't care."

It's too dangerous. Not now. That's why she's here. 

"You need a knot." The heat would go away more quickly with one.

She had left it in Los Angeles- a box marked nonessential items burned with everything else when the Shatterdome fell. 

He tries to buck beneath her.

"Then fucking go get me one." Heats are milder spending with betas and Chuck likes his words.

Mako pinches him. “I don’t have one. Should’ve thought of that before you knocked.”

“I did,” Chuck answers and goes suddenly silent. She senses the tension beneath her transforming even before she hears the knock.

Soft at first, it grows louder as she moves slowly, away. 

Raleigh takes in the scene. He sways briefly on his feet. Why isn't he taking his meds?" The words come out muffled as he covers his face.

"Because he doesn't want to," Mako replies for Chuck. Raleigh’s pupils are already dilating. She doesn’t turn around. The room must reek to him. And Chuck must be on his knees again.

Raleigh still has his hand over his nose. "Is this Chuck apologizing?"

"It's not. It's him in a heat."

"What?"

"I'm a beta. And he can't walk through Shatterdome like this."

Technically, Chuck can, but doesn't want to and Mako's not going to let him, so he can't.

"I know." And Raleigh sounds so grave and sad that Mako momentarily lost her train of thought. But it's too late to ask questions.

"You are very wet," Raleigh says, his eyes already drawn to Chuck, who's spreading himself open, fingers digging into the red stripes on his skin.

Chuck's whole body seemed to relax at the words. His legs fell open wider. “Shut up," he says.

And Mako lets Raleigh in.

He makes his way across the room in three strides and pushes a finger inside Chuck, who whimpers as Raleigh turns his wrist. 

"You are," Mako says, inserting her finger slowly along Raleigh’s, stretching. She leans over to Chuck's ear. "You are soft and smooth and wet inside."

"That's disgusting," Chuck says, breathless, thrusting back. He's not quite gone. 

"You're disgusting." Mako continues. Raleigh has the glazed look of the drunk. She turns away and strokes Chuck's back, the smooth skin marred. "Knocking on my door with someone's mark on you."

Chuck's trying to deny it, but it's true. He wears that ugly thing on his body.

The whole world may assume that rangers take suppressants. For that matter, the cadets who go through the academy in 6 months as well, but Mako beat everyone else, fair and square. 

"You went into heat in the drive suit room," Mako says evenly. "They locked you up immediately. And it's not enough, so you said, just hurt me. And she's a beta but probably excited anyways because you'd be offering. Her hands shook and you bled. Did I get everything right?"

"Yes," Chuck moans. "Just give me-"

"Give you what?" Raleigh asks, hazy with lust; one-handed, he pushes his sweats down and takes his cock out, the tip already moist. He's not interested in drawing this out. None of the alphas are. 

"Your knot," Chuck bites out. Mako inserts a second finger, then a third inside him, her hand becoming slippery. Watching Raleigh's face carefully, she times her movement to move away and inserts herself under Chuck in a strange, erotic shuffle of limbs. She can’t quite tell if her legs are touching Chuck's or Raleigh's.

"Don't fall on me," she warns aloud, if Chuck's listening. She's going to brace herself just in case and then her eyes fall close as Raleigh shoves forward and the momentum pushes Chuck against her and inside her. 

It's only fair.

-=-=

Sometime in the middle of the night, Mako wakes up. Raleigh's alert. The awful blank look in his face is gone. Mako's abdomen aches with the memory of it. Her ankle hurts, too, because Raleigh had clasped it when she locked it around Chuck's waist. 

"He could've just taken the meds," Raleigh says. "Why didn't he?"

"Heat suppressants also suppresses normal limerent attachments." 

Raleigh took suppressants. Most rangers did. 

"But," he is still puzzling the pieces of her from the Drift, "You're a beta."

"We are all very aware," Mako replies, irritated.

"Ok." Raleigh seems content with the answer. He must be. Betas bond to neither omegas nor alphas, no matter how Drift compatible. 

On her other side, Chuck's chin tucked on her shoulder. He's too tall to curl neatly against her, but at least she can't see Raleigh's bite-mark on his shoulder. 

He's still hers. The thought brings a deep sense of satisfaction. Raleigh's chest rumbles pleasantly, like a large cat, echoing the thought.

-=-=


End file.
